Fae Child
by Summer Leigh Wind
Summary: Relaxing, Scotland leans against the wall a breathless laugh leaving his lips. Staring down into his brother's emerald green eyes he whispers. "Ain't ya just a special one?" Now calm, England reaches with one small hand to brush his brother's cheek cooing all the while. One-Shot.


_Fae Child_

**Explanations at end of story.**_  
_

* * *

Plucking the roasted meat from the bone, the young redhead plops the bite in his mouth. As he begins to pull another piece from the bone a pudgy hand tries to snatch it from his fingers. Jerking his hand away from the toddler, the older boy glowers at him. "No, this is mine Wales. I fed ye already." He growls at the younger child.

"Gimmie!" The boy whines trying for a second time to grab the morsel from his elder brother.

The third boy who pokes at the fire turns his head and frowns at his younger brother. "Give him some Ireland we have more than enough." He orders. Ireland huffs and glares at his brothers back before tugging off a scrap to give to Wales.

"Here." He grumbles eliciting squeals from the tiny brunette.

Shifting away from the fire another stick of meat in his hand, the boy grins at Ireland and Wales. "Wasn't so bad was it?" He asks. Ireland takes a vicious bite from his meat and scowls at his brother. Scotland grins and shakes his head handing the food. "Here." He says taking a seat next to his brother. Suddenly a gurgling sounds from the back of the room.

"England's up." Ireland murmurs.

Scotland sighs and shoves himself to his feet. "At least he's not crying." He comments.

"Hmm." Ireland mumbles around his meal. Swiveling his head around he sees several glowing orbs hovering over England's pallet. Mouth dropping open, he tugs on his elder brother's tunic and whispers "Scotland."

Scotland ignores him for a moment as he finishes preoccupying Wales to keep him away from the fire while he tends to England. Twisting back around he sees Ireland's open mouth filled with half chewed food. "Oi! You ain't a dog! Keep yer mouth closed." He snaps at the younger redhead.

Ireland's clover green eyes glance back to him. "What? Oh, sorry. But, look!" He insists pointing back to where their youngest brother slumbers. Scotland lifts his head to see the shining balls hanging around his brother.

"Oi!" Scotland yells running at them. "Get 'way from my brother! He ain't yers!" He snarls batting away the tiny lights as he lift his baby brother into his arms. The creatures titter and approach again. "No!" Scotland shouts waving his free arm at them while he struggles to hold the babe in the other.

Suddenly Ireland is racing towards Scotland and England. "Ye can't have him!" He cries coming to chase away the fae as his brother curls protectively around England. When they are gone Ireland turns back to Scotland. "We need iron." He states.

Rocking the frightened England, Scotland nods. "'till then ya are never ta leave 'im alone. Understand?"

"Aye." Ireland mutters.

Relaxing, Scotland leans against the wall a breathless laugh leaving his lips. Staring down into his brother's emerald green eyes he whispers. "Ain't ya just a special one?" Now calm, England reaches with one small hand to brush his brother's cheek cooing all the while.

**XxXxX**

Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, the redhead doesn't stop at all when England stumbles; it's not until they reach their little home that he begins to slow. "Wales!" Ireland shouts as they near the doorway. The brunette pokes his head out and his eyes grow drastically before he scrambles to meet them outside. Coming to stand in front of the younger boy he snags the child's arm in a stinging grasp and hisses "I thought I told ye ta watch him!" Wale's lip trembles for a moment before his face turns red and he yanks his arm back.

"You and Scotland never do! Why should I?" He shouts.

He lets go of England's wrist, but quickly grasping the back of the child's neck to keep him from straying. "We don't-" he starts indignant. "Who the hell do ye think watches 'im when ye two a' sleeping?" He screams at his little brother.

Wales flushes and stares at his feet. "I thought-"

Butting in, Ireland hisses "Ye didn't think, that's what."

Wales jerks his head up and stares at his brother in astounded silence for all of a second before bleeding scarlet. "I HATE you!" He shrieks before running away.

Ireland gapes, spinning around he makes a grab for his brother. "Wales!" He calls, but the child is gone. Ireland sighs and his shoulders slump as he desperately scans the horizon hoping his brother will change his mind and come running back. He's broken by his train of thought by a soft sniveling. Kneeling down in front of his tiny brother, Ireland lowers his voice and asks "What's wrong?"

Scrubbing at his eyes England hiccups "'s my fault!"

"What?" Ireland gasps.

Sniffling, England stutters "I-If I-I hadn't-t gone w-with the fae y-you an' Wales wouldn't be f-fightin'!"

Ireland swears and brings England into his arms. "No it's not yer fault." He whispers.

Shoving his brother away, England wails "It is!"

Snatching both of his brothers hands Ireland pulls on them. "Look at me England." He demands and a pair of emerald meet his own clover green. "I want ye ta pay attention now, I'm only going ta say this once and never 'gain." He explains and waits for the assenting nod before going on. "Whatever happens, nay matter how bad things get, nay matter what goes down 'tween us, this, this _interest_ the fae have in ya is _never _your fault. Understand?" He asks.

England swipes away the last of his tears and murmurs. "Uh-huh." Ireland grins and scoops the little boy into his arms.

"Great, now how 'bout we make some dinner fer when Scotland an' Wales comeback?" Ireland inquires, tickling the little blond's stomach.

England squirms and giggles. "Yeah!" He agrees.

**XxXxX**

"Scotland!" England shouts. The teenager lifts his head to see his sprouting brother hanging from a tree with several glowing orbs hovering around him. The redhead grunts and debates whether he should shoot an arrow at the boy, it would serve him right; sitting in the tree like a bird. England huffs and whispers something to the creatures hanging around him. Scotland's fingers itch, he knows he has no right to order his little brother around anymore, but he really wishes the boy would have made friends with _anything _else, hell, a bloody _pansy_ unicorn would have been better than those _devils._

"Ya know, they tried ta steal ya 'way when ya were a babe." He blurts.

"What?" England frowns and then the fae are tittering furiously to his brother. The child's eyes go large and he brings a hand to his mouth. Suddenly, he's glaring at Scotland. "You're just jealous I made friends with them and none of you lot ever did!" He accuses.

Scotland gapes for a moment before letting out a hysterical laugh. "Gonna believe those conniving _devils _over ya own flesh an' blood? I may be a lot o' things, but a liar ain't one o' them." He declares. For a moment, England looks uncertain and Scotland almost believes the boy will see the truth, but then one of those _things_ says something to him and the child's eyes go hard as he whispers something under his breath.

"Go away_!_ You _bastard_!" His brother screams, hot sparks shooting from his finger tip. A few manage to hit him and Scotland yelps as he bats away the flames that are starting on his clothes. Making a hasty retreat he silently curses the fae. They've taught his brother _magic._

**XxXxX**

Grabbing his collar, France howls "What 'ave you done with my _cher Matthieu_!"

England struggles against the older nation. "What are you talking about!" He yells back. Jerking the nation around so he can see over his shoulder, England's gaze meets a pair of violet eyes instead of the icy blue he is familiar with. The child is remarkably similar to Canada, but a few things are off, such as his eyes, the texture of his hair and the air around him. It's forgettable, unlike before, when it demanded everyone to look at him. "Who's that France?"

"Don't you _dare_ lie to me!" France hisses bringing his face in close. "I saw your-your _demons _with my _ange_ the other day!"

"My-" England stops abruptly realizing just who France was talking about, England's body goes cold. _Demons, devils, monsters,_ all names his fae have been called over the years. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." England stammers. France's eyes flare with fury as he searches England's own, but slowly they turn to heartbreak when they see the obliviousness in the Englishman's eyes.

"I see." He whispers letting go of England. The Englishman sympathizes with France, he can't imagine what he would do if the fae take Alfred. Yet, he knows that stealing children is what the fae do and England knows he has no control over this or what they do with the child.

"_Papa_?" Mathew, _not Mathew,_ England reminds, himself whispers.

France turns putting a smile on his face. "_Oui cher_?"

The child bites at his lip. "Is-Is something wrong...?"

The Frenchman's eyes are sorrowful blue as he goes and lifts the little child into his arms. "_Non, non_ everything is fine _mon petit_, you are fine." He whispers holding the child, but England knows everything is not fine. Mathew has disappeared to be replaced with a stranger, France has lost a child and gained another, hopefully, England prays, this one will not disappear.

**XxXxX**

One evening, situated around the fireplace with his three older brothers and his little brother sound asleep in his lap England says "Canada is a changeling child."

Scotland is the first to respond. "I always thought something was off about the boy." He murmurs. England nods his head in agreement, but he doubts his brother ever noticed.

Ireland hums thoughtfully as he downs a swig of the whiskey Scotland has brought with him to share and tells England "Ye were almost one. A changeling, I mean."

England blinks and his gaze flickers between his older brothers, he spots no deception. It dawns on him that Scotland hadn't been lying that time, for a moment England feels guilty; he brushes the feeling away seconds later in order to pursue the topic. "Really?" He mumbles.

"Ai, 's why we kept such a close eye on ya those early years." Scotland explains.

"Oh, why didn't they ever take me once I was older?" England frowns.

Ireland grins at his brother. "Ye were a cute little babe, by far the fairest of us all as well. The fae like adorable fair-haired children, but a half-grown one? Not as much, not nearly as cute." He declares.

England flushes and looks down in his lap, his eyes soften as he traces Northern Ireland's face. "I guess...thanks for not letting them take me. I can't imagine what they did with pour Mathew." He murmurs.

Wales reaches around Scotland to clap his brother's shoulder. "It was no trouble, you are our brother after all." He says and Ireland and Scotland chime in their agreement causing England to flush.

"You lot really aren't half-bad for brothers." England compliments a tiny smile on his lips. His older brothers laugh and grin back at him passing the whiskey to him for a swig.

* * *

**A couple of notes, in ancient/medieval times people thought faeries abducted babies and young children. Boys and blonds especially (little England and Canada being both), so people had to watch their little kids really well also they thought having iron with you would ward off would be abductor faeries. If anything else needs to be clarified you can PM me or leave your question in a review. Thanks for reading and please review!**

**_Words:_  
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**_Cher Matthieu: Dear Mathew  
_**

**_Mon Petit: My Little One  
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**_Ange: Angel  
_**

**_Oui: Yes  
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**_Non: No  
_**


End file.
